The Drowning Child

by Alex Barclay

  ‘Do you have a cell phone number for him?’ said Gary.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ruddock. He got his phone and called out the number.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Gary.

  ‘Do you have a list of sex offenders living in the area of Rose Dennehy’s house?’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ruddock.

  ‘Did we get their alibis checked for last Monday?’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ruddock. ‘We cast the net wide. They all checked out.’

  ‘Have there been any reports of suspicious activity on that street or nearby?’ said Ren. ‘Has any kid reported being followed or cars slowing down …’

  Ruddock shook his head. ‘No. The only thing that happened near there was that little boy I mentioned who choked.’

  ‘What was his name?’ said Ren. ‘Monroe?’

  ‘Luke Monroe.’

  ‘When did that happen?’ said Ren.

  ‘Last month,’ said Ruddock. He turned to his computer, typed in Luke Monroe’s name and called up his memorial page. ‘February eleventh.’

  What the what now?

  ‘That’s the same day Caleb was last at Mrs Dennehy’s,’ said Ren. ‘So the same day John Veir was in the area, dropping his son off.’ And the same day your nephew was.

  It was clear from Ruddock’s face that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  There was a truck in front of J. J. Nash’s house with JJ’s Plumbing Services written on the side. The shades on the house were down.

  ‘Despite the truck,’ said Ren, ‘I’m getting the sense no one’s home.’

  They rang the doorbell, knocked on the door, called out his name, but there was no answer.

  They walked around to the back of the house. They could see a cell phone on the kitchen table. The screen was black.

  Ren could feel her heartbeat quicken.

  ‘Did Ruddock tip him off?’ said Ren. I hate when I think these things. ‘Could Nash have known I was speaking with Rose Dennehy?’

  ‘Leaves his cell phone behind,’ said Gary. ‘Doesn’t want to be tracked.’

  ‘Or,’ said Ren, ‘he’s a tradesman who doesn’t want to be bothered outside office hours. Or maybe he knows the police are on to him. Or the FBI, at least.’

  Stop.

  They came back around to the front of the house. A skinny guy in his sixties, with long dark hair streaked with gray, came out of the next-door house, smoking a cigarette. He was dressed in a sleeveless checked shirt and khaki board shorts. His only concession to the weather was a pair of black fake Uggs.

  ‘Are you looking for J. J.?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ren.

  ‘I think he might have gone away on vacation,’ said the man. ‘He kind of rushed out about a half-hour ago, packed up his Harley, and was gone.’

  Fuuuuuck.

  42

  Ren and Gary flashed their creds at the neighbor. He looked a little stunned.

  ‘We’re with the FBI,’ said Ren. ‘Anyone call at his house before J. J. left?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Does he have a lot of visitors?’ said Ren.

  ‘Nope. But’ – he raised the fingers holding his cigarette – ‘I do believe he has a lady in his life.’

  ‘Do you know her?’ said Gary.

  ‘I get the impression she’s from out of town – she’s only ever around on weekends, drives a red car – I’m not good on makes and models – arrives Friday night, leaves Saturday mornings, comes back Saturday afternoons, stays the night again, then leaves Sunday evening.’

  Jesus, you don’t miss a trick.

  ‘Could you describe her for us?’ said Ren.

  ‘She’s an attractive woman – older than him by maybe twenty years, I’d say. Nothing wrong with an experienced lady. She has that blonde hair, nicely styled, dresses real well, nice jewelry – the real deal, good shoes, nice nails …’

  I’m just going to keep nodding here, you nosy, but helpful, weirdo.

  ‘Did you catch her name?’ said Ren.

  ‘“Babe”,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘So he never introduced you,’ said Ren. Even though you were right up there in manicure-judging distance.

  ‘No. To be honest, it felt like he was going out of his way to avoid introducing her to me.’ He took a step back. ‘I mean, do I look like the kind of guy’s gonna steal your chick? Not a lady like her, anyway. Nothing to worry about with me. They’re not lining up at my door.’ There was a wistful look in his eye.

  Back at the station, Gary and Ren went into Ruddock’s office.

  ‘We have a problem,’ said Gary.

  Ruddock looked up, wide-eyed. ‘What?’

  ‘J. J.’s gone,’ said Gary. He let it hang there.

  ‘He packed a bag, hopped on his Harley and left a short while ago,’ said Ren.

  ‘What?’ said Ruddock.

  Genuine shock.

  ‘Did you speak with him?’ said Gary.

  ‘No,’ said Ruddock. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Was he planning a vacation?’ said Ren. ‘A weekend away?’

  ‘Not that I know of,’ said Ruddock. ‘But it’s not like he keeps me posted on all his movements. Most of the time, I only know he’s been away after he gets back.’

  ‘Looks like his cell phone is on the kitchen table,’ said Ren.

  ‘Do you have keys to his house?’ said Gary.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ruddock. ‘Would you like me to take you over there? Or are we being a little dramatic? Maybe, I’ll call my sister-in-law – his mother – first.’

  ‘Do you know about the woman J. J.’s seeing?’ said Ren.

  ‘No,’ said Ruddock. ‘What woman?’

  ‘His neighbor said she’s blonde, quite a bit older than him, she’s only ever there on weekends.’

  ‘First I heard of her,’ said Ruddock. ‘But it could explain if she’s only free on weekends why he might not be around. They could have gone away.’

  ‘True,’ said Ren. ‘And the nosy neighbor said no one had called to the house.’

  Ruddock called J. J.’s mother. It was clear they had a warm relationship. He put down the phone. ‘She doesn’t know where he is, she doesn’t know anything about a girlfriend, but she says absolutely go over and take a look around.’ He shrugged. ‘She knows there’s nothing to this.’ He paused. ‘But, obviously, I understand why you have to look at him.’

  He was in my hotel room!!!

  Gary stayed at the station. Ren returned to J. J.’s house with Ruddock. The first thing she went for when he let her in was the cell phone. She turned it on. There was no password set up. She scrolled through the text messages. They were all straightforward: work, family, and friends. There were none that looked like they were sent to a romantic partner. Email hadn’t been set up on the phone. There was nothing immediately off about the last-dialed calls.

  ‘Oh, hold on,’ said Ren. ‘He called Rose Dennehy after I’d been there.’

  ‘I know you’re doing what you have to do,’ said Ruddock, raising his hands, ‘but you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’d just hate for you to waste your time on this.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask your sister-in-law to call around J. J.’s friends,’ said Ren, ‘and if nothing comes back, we can put a BOLO out for him tonight.’

  Ruddock looked resigned. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll do that.’

  On the drive back to Tate PD, Ren turned to Ruddock when a silence opened up.

  ‘I’d like to go take a look at Luke Monroe’s autopsy file.’

  Ruddock’s eyes went wide. ‘But, why? He choked on a sandwich. It was an accident.’

  ‘I know,’ said Ren. But …

  Beckman was in the middle of an autopsy when Ren and Ruddock arrived unannounced. She stepped outside to meet them, pulling down her mask.

  ‘You’re lucky you caught me,’ she said. ‘I’m only here late because there was a suicide out your way. A guy hanged himself at the Harvest Road Retirement Home – he’d only been there
two weeks. Lesson: do not farm your seniors out to Harvest Road.’ She paused. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Did you do an autopsy on a seven-year-old boy from Tate – Luke Monroe?’ said Ren. ‘He choked on a sandwich.’

  Beckman gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. ‘Yes.’ Pause. Deadpan: ‘He choked on a sandwich.’

  I like your style.

  ‘Would you mind if we took a look at the file?’ said Ren.

  There was fire in Beckman’s eyes this time. ‘May I ask why?’

  Ren nodded. ‘Tate’s a very small town: in just under three months, two children have died, and one is currently missing – that’s not very common in my experience.’

  ‘Luke Monroe was an accidental death,’ said Beckman.

  And the response that hovered, unspoken, between them all was: So was Aaron Fuller’s.

  Ruddock and Ren followed Beckman to her office. She set them up at a desk, left them the file and went back into the morgue.

  ‘Tense,’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ruddock. ‘Are you OK to start without me? I have a call to make. I’ll be right back.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ren.

  She started with the first responder’s report: ‘Boy, seven years old, found unresponsive in garden of family home, holding a peanut-butter sandwich with one bite taken, piece of sandwich found lodged in boy’s throat.’

  She pulled out the autopsy photos.

  I can’t deal.

  She slipped them back into the folder. There was another photo in the file – of Luke Monroe, alive, grinning, gripping the handlebars of his red bicycle. He had wild blond curly hair, huge, eager blue eyes, long lashes.

  How do your parents function? How do they get up in the morning? What levels of strength does that take? What could possibly get them through this?

  Ren took a deep breath. Tears welled in her eyes. She put her elbows on the desk, pressed her palms against her forehead. Her nose started to run. She reached into the drawer.

  Not your drawer. Not your desk.

  She grabbed her handbag.

  No tissues.

  She held her head back until the tears were gone, sucked air through her nostrils until her nose stopped running.

  Gross.

  She picked up her cell phone. She was about to text her brother, Matt.

  I can’t text him. He is a father. He doesn’t do what I do.

  She texted her best friend, Janine.

  Little angel autopsy photos. Literally feel a crack opening in my heart. Not literal. But still. Unbearable. XX

  She took another breath, looked back at the autopsy photos. There was one of Luke, face down on the morgue table.

  What is it? What is wrong with this picture?

  She felt a spike in her chest, a shift, a realization.

  What happened to your purty curls, Luke Monroe? Your hair is very flat at the back of your head.

  Her heart rate shot up.

  Oh, God: your hair was wet. Your hair was wet, then it dried as you lay on it.

  Not exactly stark evidence. It could have been from the paramedics working on you.

  She looked through the photos of the Monroes’ garden. There was no pond, no water feature, no vessel nearby that would hold water.

  That doesn’t mean there wasn’t one there beforehand.

  Her phone beeped with a text from Janine.

  Hang in there, lovely lady. That angel is blessed your wise eyes are on him. x

  Aw, maaan.

  Ren replied:

  Teary eyes. Thank you, maaan. Hope all is dazzling where you are. XX

  Ren went back through the file.

  This is too weird. John Veir nearby …

  There was no sign of Ruddock. Ren called his cell phone. He was walking in the door as it rang.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘That took a little longer than I expected.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Ren, turning to him.

  His face fell when he saw her expression.

  ‘I might be jumping to conclusions,’ said Ren. ‘But … I’d like Beckman to take a look at his lung tissue. She didn’t take a sphenoid sinus sample, understandably – drowning was not part of the picture.’

  ‘No,’ said Ruddock.

  After a short silence, he added, ‘Please God, no.’

  43

  Jimmy Lyle had missed seven calls from the same number. His phone was on the passenger seat beside him, ringing now for the eighth time.

  ‘No!’ he shouted, gripping the steering wheel. ‘No, thank you!’

  It stopped, then rang again.

  ‘Fuck you all! Fuck you all, people!’

  He reached out, and picked up. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is this Mr Jimmy Lyle?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘This is Nadine Jacobs from the retirement home. Have you got someone there with you, Mr Lyle?’

  ‘It’s Jimmy. And yes. I’ve got my friend here beside me.’ He rolled his eyes.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m calling you with bad news …’

  Jimmy’s heart started to pound.

  ‘It’s your father,’ said Nadine. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you that your father passed away, Jimmy. He took his own life early today.’

  ‘Well, thank you for letting me know.’

  Silence.

  ‘Are you all right, Jimmy?’ said Nadine.

  ‘I’m all right.’ He paused. ‘How did he do it?’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure you—’

  ‘You can tell me.’

  ‘He … well, he hanged himself. We’re so terribly sorry. I know he wasn’t with us long, but he seemed like he was settling in, he showed no signs of depression, he wasn’t taking any meds.’

  ‘He “passed away” by hanging himself,’ said Jimmy. He laughed. ‘Sounds so gentle “passing away”. None of that writhing about, eyes bulging, face bright red, being starved of oxygen, scratching at your neck, trying to pull the noose off at the last minute …’ He paused. ‘Though I doubt Daddy was having second thoughts.’

  A silence stretched between them. ‘You’ve had a shock,’ said Nadine.

  ‘I’m not so sure that I have,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘Oh,’ said Nadine. ‘Well, you could have let us know if you thought—’

  ‘I’m not holding you or anyone else there responsible for this,’ said Jimmy. ‘I didn’t really know. I’m just saying …’ He paused. ‘I’ve had a shock.’ He rolled his eyes again.

  ‘Could anything have triggered this?’ said Nadine. ‘Did anything happen that might have upset him?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

  ‘We have very strict rules in place here,’ said Nadine. ‘I don’t know how your father could have—’

  ‘Nadine, Daddy had a way of getting to do whatever it was he wanted to do.’

  ‘He didn’t leave a note,’ said Nadine.

  ‘That wouldn’t have been his style,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘I didn’t think he was lonely here,’ said Nadine. ‘I mean, like I said, he seemed to be getting along with people.’

  ‘He had a way of seeming like that,’ said Jimmy. He paused. ‘But I don’t think loneliness is the number one cause of suicide, Nadine.’

  A silence stretched between them.

  ‘Well, his personal effects are here for you to collect,’ said Nadine. ‘And again, we’re terribly sorry for your loss. His body is currently at the Medical Examiner’s office, and will be removed to Longacres Funeral Home, as per your father’s wishes – he left quite detailed instructions with us when he moved in. They’re in his file. You might want to call Longacres to confirm the arrangements …’

  ‘Thank you for the call, Nadine. I’m on vacation right now, but I guess I’ll be turning this ship around.’

  He ended the call, and roared into the windshield. ‘Fuck you, Daddy! Fuck you! Fuck you!’ He hammered his hands on the steering wheel. ‘I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I hate you, I hate you.’

&nb
sp; 44

  Ren and Ruddock stopped off at the Veirs’ house on their way back to Tate PD. Only John was home.

  ‘We just wanted to talk to you about the last day you dropped Caleb off at Rose Dennehy’s house – February eleventh?’ said Ren.

  ‘Sure,’ said John.

  ‘Did anything happen to Caleb that day?’ said Ren. ‘Anything that made him afraid to go back? We believe you told Rose that Caleb needed to concentrate more on his schoolwork, but Sylvie Ross spoke with Caleb’s teacher again, and she said nothing had changed in his grades during that period, and no extra assignments had been given.’

  ‘It was a white lie,’ said John. ‘Caleb just didn’t want to do the job any more.’

  ‘But wasn’t the whole point of him having a job to teach him work ethic?’ said Ren. ‘Responsibility? Wouldn’t letting him quit, and covering for him by lying about it, kind of defeat the purpose?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said John. He shrugged.

  ‘Talk to us about that Saturday,’ said Ruddock.

  ‘There’s not a lot to say,’ said John. ‘I dropped Caleb off at Rose’s. I came back three hours later and picked him up. During that time, I was home with Teddy. I can get her to call you when she comes back. I don’t know what else to say to you.’

  That night, Ren arrived back alone at the hotel, and was walking past the bar when she saw Paul Louderback sitting on a high stool with a vodka tonic.

  I need a drink.

  She went over to him.

  ‘Well, hello, there,’ said Paul.

  ‘Hello, yourself.’

  ‘I heard we may have another victim,’ said Paul.

  ‘Hopefully not,’ said Ren. ‘I mean, it’s not like I’ve got hardcore anything. Apart from the twisting in my gut.’

  ‘How was the ME about it?’

  ‘Not a happy bunny,’ said Ren. ‘But, I’m not exactly hoping I’m right, here. We’ll know by tomorrow night. Lung slides take a while. Poor Ruddock. He knows the family, told me all about them, they’re in his church, he says they’re the nicest people you could meet. Cut to: nice, earnest, blond Christian dad’s a child killer.’

  ‘I don’t know whether to be more depressed at that being a possibility or at the fact that inside that beautiful head is the beautiful brain that can come up with that shit so quickly.’